


play (haunted) house

by queerly_yours



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Halloween, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Schmoop, background Scira, this is really silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4959853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerly_yours/pseuds/queerly_yours
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Got this for you.” He all but shoves the card in Peter’s face, cheeks going pink.</p><p>“Oh?” Peter asks, his eyebrows raise in delight. He pulls his hand out from under Stiles’ shirt and slides his thumb over the flush on his cheek, which only deepens at the contact. He sighs, pulls away, and opens the orange envelope, wondering why Stiles is so embarrassed about a card.</p><p>Peter can’t help the amused grin that spreads across his face. “Oh, really?” he asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	play (haunted) house

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SatanInACroptop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanInACroptop/gifts).



> because #STILES TO PETER THOUGH#FUCKING#Y E S#Stiles Stilinski#Peter Hale#Steter#HALLOWEEN#SOMEONE WRITE THIS LEIGH COULD YOU IF YOU HAVE A SECOND PLEASE MAYBE on [this post](http://ladywiththenecktattoo.tumblr.com/post/130688220405) and i love her very much. 
> 
> originally posted [here](http://queerleighyours.tumblr.com/post/130695313704/stiles-to-peter-thoughfuckingy-e).

“Oh my god, Scott,” Stiles says, slapping his best friend in the arm with excitement.

Scott turns to his attention to the card in Stiles’ hand and snorts. “Peter’s gonna roll his eyes so hard at you they’ll be floating on the coast.”

Stiles scoffs. “Whatever. It’s hilarious. He’ll love it.”

At that, Scott raises dubious eyebrows and shrugs. “You know him better than me, bro. Are you guys even- you know- whatever yet?” He waves his arms in an all-encompassing gesture.

The truth of the matter is that he’s not entirely sure _what_ he and Peter are doing. Making out on the couch and watching Netflix together does not a relationship make. But there are those times when he catches Peter watching him with this silly expression on his face. Sometimes Peter rubs his wolfy scent all over Stiles, like he _doesn’t_ know what that means. But there’s still a distance between them, and not just a physical one. He’s not sure what they are, not sure that he wants to ask the question for fear of what Peter’s answer would be.

“Dude.” Scott snaps his fingers in front of his face. “You totally spaced on me.”

Stiles blinks and rolls his shoulders. “Sorry,” he mutters, slipping the card into the envelope.

Turning his attention back to the wall of cards, Scott whines, “Help me.”

“Dude, it’s Kira’s birthday _today_ and you still don’t have a card?”

Scott grimaces.                                                                                                          

“Flowers? Nothing?”

Scott sucks in his bottom lip and turns his best puppy dog eyes on his best friend.

“Really, Scott? The puppy-“ he cuts off as Scott’s eyes begin to water. “Seriously? Ugh. Fine. You’re lucky I love you.” Scott’s answering grin is blinding. Stiles swears he can see rainbows and glitter pop out of his head. It’s disgustingly cute.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

* * *

 

Stiles _almost_ chickens out. He knows what he said to Scott, but it’s been a few days since and he’s starting to rethink. It’s just a silly card, right? But he doesn’t even know if Peter will like it. What if he hates it? What if he thinks Stiles is being too serious with the card and the “playing house” thing on it?

He groans against the steering wheel of his Jeep, feeling his stomach churn with anxiety. It’s a stupid Halloween card. He needs to get a grip. He blows out a breath, unbuckles the seatbelt. He tells himself that Peter will find it amusing and kiss him silly afterwards.

He hopes that’s true.

“Knock, knock,” Stiles says as he walks through the door to Peter’s apartment. It’s a spacious two bedroom place on the other side of town with high ceilings, dark cherry wood floors, and a state of the art kitchen. Peter likes nice things, so it made sense to Stiles that he would live in a place like this. However, Stiles _was_ surprised the first time he went over, thinking that the place would be stark, with dark furniture and fixtures, bare walls. But it’s warm and inviting. A deep brown leather couch centered in the living room with a plethora of soft, textured pillows and an entertainment center that made Stiles drool when he first laid eyes on it.

Peter even has a cat, a little shit named Sekhmet, who enjoys scratching Stiles like he’s the cat's own personal scratching post. Apparently Peter studied ancient mythology, he still does. He has a fondness for old books and papers, preferring a real, paperbound book to an e-book. When Stiles asked what Sekhmet meant, he snorted.

_“She was the Goddess of War, Peter?”_

_Peter only raised his eyes, so Stiles sputtered. “Figures, that’s all.”_

_He got his retaliation by tickling Stiles so hard that he almost relieved himself on the couch._

“You know, I never understood why people say ‘knock, knock’ as they walk _through_ a door and don’t knock at all.”

Peter is laying down on the couch with an old book in his hands, wearing Stiles’ favorite grey sweatpants (favorite because they were the softest and sometimes _he_ wore them around the apartment, which he could tell made Peter happy) and a worn CBGB shirt that had many holes in it. It is from the eighties after all. 

Stiles rolls his eyes fondly and plops down on Peter’s stomach causing the werewolf to groan. “You little shit,” Peter smarts, tossing his book on the deep mahogany coffee table and sliding his right hand up the back of Stiles’ shirt, the other one runs up and down Stiles’ khaki clad leg.

Stiles just hums at him in agreement, decidedly not turning his head to meet Peter’s exquisite eyes. “Got this for you.” He all but shoves the [card](http://ahandsomebabe.tumblr.com/post/130688220405) in Peter’s face, cheeks going pink.

“Oh?” Peter asks, his eyebrows raise in delight. He pulls his hand out from under Stiles’ shirt and slides his thumb over the flush on his cheek, which only deepens at the contact. He sighs, pulls away, and opens the orange envelope, wondering why Stiles is so embarrassed about a card.

Peter can’t help the amused grin that spreads across his face. “Oh, really?” he asks. Stiles swallows hard, bobs his head. With a quick and easy maneuver, one that no human could perform at such speeds, he pins Stiles down on the couch. Stiles' legs open for him on instinct and Peter settles between them like this is where he is always meant to be. They both groan as Peter closes the small gap between them, leaving no room at all to wonder where his body begins and Stiles’ ends.

Stiles groans, wrapping his legs around Peter. “Yes,” he breathes out. “ _Please_ , Peter.” He knows what he sounds like, but, fuck, it’s Peter.

Peter’s clear, blue eyes meet his. He takes one hand, cradles Stiles’ cheek. Stiles closes his eyes, leans into the touch. “I thought we were talking about playing house,” Peter pouts, looking up at Stiles from under his eyelashes.

Stiles gapes at him. “Wha-?”

“I mean, if all you wanted was sex, you could have just said so,” Peter says as he reaches in his pocket, grabbing something small, a key. “But I thought you might want this instead.” He presses the small, metal key into Stiles’ chest. “Well, maybe not instead. Think of it as a package deal. You, me, a whole place to ourselves to do _whatever_ we want.” He pauses, trying to gauge Stiles’ emotional state, which still seems to be gob smacked. “And Sekhmet, of course.”

The mention of the cat snaps Stiles out of it. He groans. “You just had to remind me about the she-devil, didn’t you?”

Peter grins and peppers kisses to Stiles’ jaw, making sure to catch each beauty mark as he goes. “She’ll learn to love your sarcastic charm.” He runs his tongue behind Stiles’ ear, nips at his ear lobe. “I did,” Peter whispers into Stiles' ear.

Stiles stops breathing altogether. Did Peter just say what he thinks he did? “We aren’t even boyfriends,” Stiles says in a rush of breath, the words tangled together.

That stops Peter in his tracks. His brows draw down in confusion and he leans back so he can look Stiles in the eyes. “Where did you get that idea, sweetheart?”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a few times, mind spinning. Peter is patient with him, gives him time to sort through whatever ridiculous notion he has built up in that beautiful brain of his. “Stiles?” he asks after five minutes have passed.

“Oh,” is all Stiles manages to say. It’s an acceptance, a revelation, all wrapped up in one word. Then he grins, eyes alight with mischief. “So when do I get to introduce you to my father, boyfriend?”

Peter huffs out a laugh and kisses Stiles firmly on the mouth. “Hopefully soon. That is- if you’ve decided to move in with me, you’ll have to tell him something.”

“Right,” Stiles says, kissing Peter’s cheek. He rolls his hips up and pulls Peter’s head down and to the side. He nips and kisses a line up his boyfriend's throat, pausing right beside his ear. “How about we get to the screaming and moaning for now?”

Peter groans against Stiles, grip tightening at his sides.

“That’s a good start.”


End file.
